Liquid Days (Never Change)
by anotheropti
Summary: Oh I can feel it now, but why can't any other words get past my mouth? *One-shot*


**A/N: **With the conclusion of RebeccaDopplemeyer's amazing Trapped fic (go read it on AO3 if you haven't) I had an overflow of April/Ann feels and had to write this.

Title and summary taken from Painted Palms' "Spinning Signs."

* * *

><p>On a sunny Indiana afternoon, Ann takes to an outdoor seat at the cafe. It's as pretentious and bohemian as it looks and sounds, but she likes drinking coffee and watching the sun in the sky. Something about the consistency of that is comforting, and something about being out in the open is refreshing for a change. Almost like she's been hiding for far too long in the confines of her house, afraid to see anyone but Leslie and the rest of the Parks department.<p>

That makes her shiver, makes her remember the empty seat in front of her.

She occasionally watches people walk by, some that she knows from hospital visits or her neighbors, and she likes to talk to them when they stop by to greet her. All of them, save for one - the one that never comes. Every day, for the past month, Ann reserves two seats and waits. She waits though she knows April will never come. Taking another sip from her cup with slightly shaky hands, Ann sighs another deep breath and reminds herself that she _might _come.

**xxxx**

"Why do you hate me?" Ann asks her one day, suddenly, when April's staring at her magazine like any other day.

"Because you're annoying," April says slowly, flipping a page and flashing her a smile.

So Ann sits like that, wondering why that smile is so hurtful. She sees something further behind those eyes too, something a little like remorse for the hate. That was far too hopeful, and even Ann knows that. All she wants is for April to say something to her that isn't laced in hatred though it never comes. It's sickening, really, how much she wants that. It's almost like a craving.

Like a hunger for the woman sitting apathetic behind the desk in front of her. Maybe Ann was just hoping it's all a ruse and April will barge into her office to kiss her. That never happens, though. Thankfully Leslie arrives not long after to relieve Ann of her thoughts. At least there, at JJ's with Leslie, Ann can pretend she isn't wondering what it would be like to have April say things to her gentler than that.

**xxxx**

Setting her coffee down, Ann folds her hands and tries to remember how long she's been waiting. She might even have to wait forever at this rate, she thinks. It's a cloudier day, no gaping holes for the sunlight to run along the pavement and the happy faces around her - the faces of strangers living their lives, thankful for what they have and not what they desperately _want_. Ann can hope that today was the day.

Despite that, the sun sets and the coffee gets cold. April never comes.

**xxxx**

It happens one day, before the visits to the outdoor tables and Pawnee pedestrians. April walks into her office and Ann thinks this is what she's been waiting for. Even though the other woman still wears her ring, and it hurts her to think of what it would do to Andy but not as much as it would hurt to go without ever feeling April's lips on hers, Ann still has some hope. But that's not what this is and Ann recognizes that immediately.

"Here," she sets down a binder on her desk. "Leslie said they were important or something. Just don't talk to me about it."

"Okay," Ann gives a half-baked smile before stuttering to a request. "Hey, April?"

"I said-"

"You wanna... have lunch sometime?" Ann tries, already knowing the answer with April's grimace. "I know this place, it's really nice-"

"Ew..." but April hangs for a moment, almost like she's thinking about it, "no."

"Oh, okay," Ann gives her that fake smile again only to have April turn around and walk away silently. "It's just on 5th, if you wanna, y'know..."

She trails off, like a desperate teenager and it makes Ann sick to her stomach. But there _was _something there, and she knows it. Even if Ann hallucinated it, April's brisk pace out of her office is a sign. She knows that there's something else there in April's eyes when they see each other in the parking lot. April makes a show of kissing Andy, and Ann thinks she knows - thinks she understands. That might just make it worse for her.

**xxxx**

One year of waiting, and the coffee's still mediocre.

One year of waiting and the skies are just now opening up, free of thunderstorms or rain and snow.

One year of waiting and Ann cries more than she ever has before. Like a little girl in the shower, driving to work, even when she pretends it's all been an illusion and a lie to herself. Everything has just been one big joke, like she's trying to actually get April to fall in love with her like she so adamantly hasn't. It's absurd, this whole year of waiting, but Ann's invested more money in crappy townhouse coffee than anything else in that entire span of time. She's spent more time thinking about pursed, angry red lips at night that would fall on hers without an ounce of fury that April still has for her than Ann will ever admit to anyone.

One year of waiting, and the other chair's still empty.


End file.
